


Child

by hawkstout



Series: The Demon Inside Me [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Brothers, Bullying, Cooking, Family, Gen, School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 09:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkstout/pseuds/hawkstout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Demon Inside Me Series: Damian has been with Dick for one month since his father's death. He finds that his new life is a bitter pill to swallow. He has difficulty in making connections with his classmates. The only anchor is Grayson and his guardian doesn't even see him he sees the shadows of his other little brothers.</p><p>Damian is an obligation. Bruce Wayne took Grayson in as a child and now Grayson was only returning the favour. </p><p>It couldn't be any other reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Child

**Author's Note:**

> This one can easily be read without reading the others in the series. Dick and Damian comfort fic.

Children were monsters. 

Damian found out very quickly there was a difference between adults and children of his age. They were chaotic, beings that thrived on random social hierarchy. There was no reason or logic to how they associated and yet they all seemed to fall in line. They followed the ‘popular crowd.’ Usually those of above average athletic skills which they used to win at childish games. This gave them status, although the majority of the other students didn’t actually seem to like them. Never the less they were seen as above the rest. 

Strangely, the math expert and spelling expert who had more medals (and intelligence) were not held in such esteem.

While this was going on the other children were also paired off. They were ‘best friends’ who had known each other since kindergarten. Allies and brothers in arms. Sometimes these alliances shifted, but basically it was a static system, especially when it came to him. He was the odd one out. He was sized up, tested and the other children didn’t like what they saw. It didn’t help that Damian had no understanding of their world and their studies. He didn’t know the name of the nine planets, nor that the earth revolved around the sun. He didn’t know about phytoplankton or who Roy G. Biv was. He didn’t watch ‘cartoons’ and he didn’t know the rules of baseball, hockey, kickball, or football (their strange version that seemed to involve pig). In turn none of them knew the rules to cricket, croquet, lacrosse, or football (proper football. They insisted on calling it soccer and he refused to play it if they called it by such a stupid name).

Mathematics, spelling and grammar and came easily, however Damian was still declared ‘stupid’ by the other children. 

He had never experienced… he didn’t know how to… 

He knew he wasn’t stupid, but they all insisted he was. 

He had no defense for that. 

He stayed in the library when he could. During recess and lunchtime and after school if Grayson was late in picking him up he would find refuge among the books while the other children ‘tweeted’ each other. He was trying to ‘catch up,’ but mostly it was to avoid his other classmates. Even with all he learned (Bats are of order Chiroptera: cheir meaning ‘hand’ and pteron meaning ‘wing.’ Bats are the only mammals capable of sustained flight. There are 1240 species of bats.) he was still labeled ignorant or a freak because as soon as he came up with the answer to one of their questions they would come up with another that was even more baffling. 

It was humiliating. 

-

“Hey.” 

He didn’t want to admit that Grayson’s bright smile at 3:15 cheered him every day. He would wait at a small stone wall his nose buried in a book, or, if Grayson didn’t show up within ten minutes he would go wait it out at the library. He made sure to stay within the sight of teachers so that there was no opportunity for ambush. 

They didn’t attack him, they had learned from the first time, but he had learned just as quickly defending against words with fists wasn’t acceptable in _their_ baffling system. He had to take the teasing with no counter other than his own sharp tongue, but they didn’t even ‘get’ his insults. 

Better to avoid it, avoid them. Wait for Grayson, go home. 

Grayson would arrive, would stand in front of him, hands in his pockets (Damian does not hold hands and made that very clear from day one). 

“How was school? Have a good time? Make any friends?” He’d asked at first.

Damian would grunt an affirmative. Grayson would try to wheedle out information, but quickly realized the boy didn’t want to talk. 

“Any trouble?” Grayson would ask now. Damian would inevitably shake his head and they would walk home. Sometimes Grayson would try to start a conversation, other times they moved in companionable silence. 

It was a grim state of affairs that this was the brightest part of his day. 

School was hell and home was…

It wasn’t home unless Grayson was around to distract him from its failings. 

They would walk home. Grayson would make him a snack, usually fruit or sugary cereal depending on his mood. His guardian would tell him age appropriate stories about his patrol the night before. Then Grayson would do chores and Damian would stick in his headphones and sit on the balcony outside, his feet hanging down staring at the people running off to see to their business like ants.

He sometimes wondered if he was becoming like those ants and wondered if they were happy. He didn’t feel particularly happy.

An earbud was gently yanked out of his ear. 

“Hey.”

He tilted his head up. Grayson in an old tee and jeans with an off-white apron thrown over, bits of dust stuck to his hair. He did an hour of cleaning usually. It never really helped the place much. Grayson was one of nature’s natural slobs, made worse by the fact that he was raised under the care of a butler and that he was constantly busy with some more important issue. 

Damian couldn’t really talk, he had the same experience when it came to household duties. 

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Something edible?”

“We already had take-out night this week,” Grayson grinned playfully. Damian frowned up at him unamused. “Okay, well I need ideas then,” Grayson took a seat on an old lawn chair that had probably come with the apartment. 

“Affordable?”

“That would be the idea.” 

“Coupled with something you’re capable of making?”

“I don’t see you with oven mitts on.” 

“Meat.”

“Or?”

“Cheese.”

“Any veggies in there?”

“No.” Damian looked back down at the ants. 

Grayson was probably smiling; he always seemed to be smiling, even when he didn’t mean it. 

“Ah! Spaghetti and meatballs with parmesan cheese, good idea,” he said as if Damian had suggested it, “With… Caesar salad?”

“The first part sounds acceptable.”

“Steamed spinach.”

“No.”

“Broccoli?” 

“No.”

“Honey-Ginger carrots?”

“…Tt.”

“Sounds good to me, come on then.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Grayson’s hand pull back. He was always doing that. He was touchy-feely with Drake, even Todd when the middle child wasn’t being a complete ass, but Damian didn’t like it and didn’t allow it especially since he was sure that Grayson was doing it out of reflex. He was probably seeing Drake when he did it. About to ruffle his hair or pat his shoulder and seeing _Drake_ , it was annoying. He felt his nails digging into his palms, he wanted to tell his guardian to leave him alone, but Damian was beyond trying to argue. Grayson insisted he have a hand in shopping for dinner. Maybe he was trying to make him learn the value of a dollar or healthy eating. It definitely wasn’t for the company. He stood up stiffly making it clear he had noticed Grayson’s slip. Grayson didn’t let his smile drop, but it was obvious he was annoyed with himself for the mistake. 

They walked down the street, Grayson pulling a small cart behind him. They were always walking everywhere. Grayson had a car and a motorcycle, but he never seemed to use them.

“I like walking,” Grayson suddenly said as if reading his mind, “Gives me time to think. Like you on the balcony.”

“-Tt-” 

“We’ve been together a month now…”

“What? Do you want me to ask you to Prom, Grayson?”

“Hah. No. I just… want to know what’s going on in your head sometimes. How’s school? Are you doing alright? Are you adjusting well?”

Damian was out of his depth and the only solid thing he had right now was Grayson. He had never had to depend on another person before, or at least it had never felt like it. He could do as he pleased in his Grandfather’s cult, and in Bruce Wayne’s manor he was mostly ignored and left to his own devices. He didn’t have to ‘socialize’ he didn’t have to ‘get along.’ 

Suddenly Damian had a classroom of enemies and his only anchor was a man, a stranger that probably didn’t even like him, who was only looking after him and being nice to him as an obligation to his father. Bruce Wayne had taken him in when he was nine, now Grayson was only returning the favour, right?

“Well enough,” Damian lied. 

“What does that even mean? Well enough. Does that mean it could be better—should be better?” 

“I’m fine.” 

Grayson sighed very softly. Damian felt his temper rise. 

He was tired of not being good enough. 

-

Grayson bustled around in the kitchenette. Damian sat at the small dining-room table doing his homework with his usual diligence. It was boring, painfully simple, but he wouldn’t give _them_ more ammunition by not doing it. 

Grayson was quietly humming a song Damian didn’t recognise. It seemed old and dreamy. Damian closed his eyes.

“Dancing in the raindrops running wild, the fiddle plays, we stomp we smile, take my hand and together we fly, and sing all the old songs till dawn.” 

The smell of food, the sound of singing, apparently these things were supposed to be comforting, but to him they were alien. Music was a private thing for Damian and food was fuel. He had never spent so much time with another person in the way he spent with Grayson and there was something deep inside him that wanted that connection, but Grayson wasn’t offering it. Grayson was making the best of an unfortunate situation. Grayson saw his other little brothers when he looked at Damian. 

“You okay?”

Damian opened his eyes. Grayson was sitting across the table from him now leaning forward slightly. He looked concerned.

"What?"

“Damian you’re…” He passed him a napkin. Damian took it, but didn’t know what he wanted him to do with it.

“Damian you’re crying.”

He touched his own face. It was wet. He gazed at the tears, detached. 

“I didn’t notice.”

_I’ve never cried before, have I?_

It was the song and the food and those alien feelings he had never felt before. He brushed the napkin over his face mechanically. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

That sigh. It looked like Grayson was about to pull away again when he suddenly stopped. Instead he met Damian's eyes straight on and Damian felt self-conscience. 

“You hate school.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“And you hate… do you hate it here with me?” 

“Grayson I don’t know what you want from me!” Damian suddenly shouted, “I’m fine! I stay out of your way! I’m not—there’s no—”

“Damian,” Grayson moved to put a hand on his shoulder, but stopped himself at the last second.

“I’m not Drake!!” Damian screamed. He shot up his chair falling back behind him.

_And when you pull back and remember that it hurts!_

The two stared, shocked at one another. 

Then Grayson stood. He stood in front of him and held out his hand slowly. Damian did nothing. Grayson squeezed his shoulder. 

“I know.” He said gently. “I know who you are.”

“You know nothing about me,” Damian hissed, but he didn’t push Grayson away.

“I know how it feels you know.”

“What are you even talking about?” He asked instead of, ‘how could you know how it feels.’ 

“Until Bruce took me in I had never even seen the inside of a school and it wasn’t even a normal public school, it was a private school and everyone looked down their noses at me. Like I was nothing…” 

Damian didn’t want to believe him, but he saw the residue of anger in Grayson’s eyes. Anger that, if he was completely honest, matched his own. 

“They made me feel like I didn’t know anything,” Grayson continued, “They were talking about things I had never even heard of. I mean, you ever heard of Pokémon? I hadn’t. I had no idea what the heck that was and I couldn’t name the hundred plus varieties of them and I didn’t have the Gameboy to play it. Bruce probably would have bought it for me, but I didn’t want to ask him. He had done enough for me already.” 

“What did you do?” Damian asked almost unwillingly.

“Tried to memorize them. I got to “Blastoise” before I gave up.”

That’s about as far as Damian had gone too.

“Why’d you give up?”

Grayson shrugged, “It was boring to me. It didn’t seem important after what I had been through, after what I’ve experienced, so I just… gave up trying to fit in with them.”

“How did that go for you?”

“Got beat up quite a few times,” Dick looked up then back at Damian, “I could have taken them. Preppy rubes—” What the hell is a rube? “—couldn’t throw a punch to save their lives, but I knew Bruce’d be disappointed and I just couldn’t do that. I was careful about everything I did. I didn’t want him to regret taking me in.”

“Don’t think for a moment I feel like that,” Damian said sharply. “I'm not here by choice and I could care less what you think, Grayson.”

He realized it was a lie as soon as he said it. Another flash of annoyance at himself. 

Grayson didn’t look hurt by the comment. In fact, he looked relieved that Damian was actually opening up, even a little.

“Did you have any friends before… back with your Mom and Grandfather?”

“No,” He said defensively, “I didn’t have to have friends. I could do as I pleased. I didn’t have to go to school. I didn’t have to shop for food or eat vegetables or listen to endless useless nattering. I didn’t have cereal twice a day. I didn’t have to sleep on a bed three times my size.” 

“You hate it that much?” Now Grayson did look a bit… off. Sad or maybe more resigned. 

“It’s fine.” 

“But it’s not!” Grayson slammed his hand on the table startling Damian. The man before him had been patient, quiet, understanding up until now, but his frustration was obvious. “You’re not happy and there’s not a lot I can do about school, but here I can do something Damian. I want you to have a place where you don’t feel miserable. I’ve worked with youth before, but it’s different being a pa—a guardian. I need your help here, you seem to be trying to keep your distance and stay out of my way, but I don’t want that. We need to build a life together.” 

“The food and shelter are enough Grayson, I don’t need anything more of you.” 

“You need to be happy.”

“I don’t need to be anything.”

“Okay… I want you to be happy,” 

_That alien feeling again…_

“Grayson, you’re adequate. I don’t hate you,” That was about as emotional as Damian was willing to get about this. “You’re a better choice than Drake or Todd and a better cook than Pennyworth. In fact you’re probably better at being my guardian than my own blood relatives were. Better than father, although that isn’t really saying much. And, thus far, you haven’t tried to sacrifice me to gain eternal life so… adequate is … pretty good comparatively, don’t you think?”

**_It makes me happy when he sees me._ **

_I won't tell him that though._

Grayson didn’t seem to know how to respond.

“I can survive the apes that I am forced to associate with if you continue to do what you have been doing…Although, if you could learn to cook something more complicated than pasta and carrots that would be appreciated.”

“I’ll do my best,” Grayson said sounding reluctant to leave the conversation there, “But just remember, I’m here for you. I’m not your guardian because I feel like I owe it to Bruce or that it’s the right thing to do. I like you Damian. You’re a good kid and you've put up with my learning curve. I know everything's new for you and that your life has changed very suddenly.You don't have to pretend to be happy. You don't have to be happy if you don't want to. Just let me be there when you need me.” Grayson hesitated for a moment and then pulled the boy into a hug. 

He felt a rush of energy and awakening. Everything had been trapped behind a dam. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so 

**Human**

_Complete_

He squeezed his eyes shut. An image. The Bat. He shuddered, terrified for a short moment that his nightmare was in the waking world and didn’t even notice that he had wrapped his arms around Grayson as well. 

He felt safer, the bat disappeared and it was just them. 

“They say I’m stupid.”

He felt panic rush through him because he hadn’t meant to admit that. He didn’t want to hear disappointment or pity. He didn’t want Grayson to empathise or sympathise. He just wanted-- 

“They’re wrong.” 

Acceptance. 

Grayson was something unique. He could feel it. Something to be cherished that was different from all the shallow relationships he had experienced before and… 

And he was his best friend. 

Not something as shallow as those schoolyard friendships that were broken over petty feuds, but a real friendship. 

A real brother.

And that was enough. Maybe he wasn't happy, but he could be content here as long as Grayson remained beside him. 

Damian would continue to be himself. Acerbic, rude, and seemingly ungrateful during the months that followed, but that moment of vulnerability stuck with both of them. Grayson accepted him and in turn he accepted Grayson. 

This was when Damian's love for his older brother was seeded in his heart.

The smoke alarm went off. Grayson broke the hug in shock. He ran to the stove to try to salvage the burning tomato sauce.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Dick is singing is made-up. It's supposed to be corny and I imagine it's something his Mom or Dad sung to him when he was a kid.
> 
> This is a prequel to Guardian when Damian and Dick are still feeling out one another. 
> 
> This is the last short for awhile! The main story line continues next time! Guardian II coming soon!


End file.
